The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend
by theoneandonlylordmonkeyknight
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance, no matter their origins.


"We're here, sir."

Jolted from the uncomfortable sleep he had slipped into, Ondolemar gave a sigh of relief. The carriage ride up the mountain to the Thalmor Embassy was always less than pleasant. He was glad that the two soldiers accompanying him had been ordered to stay behind; falling asleep on a trip was not considered professional.

"By the Eight, what happened here?!" Startled, Ondolemar leaned forward.

"What is it?" he asked. The carriage driver gestured in front of him.

"See for yourself." Doing so, the High Elf's jaw fell open. He couldn't believe his eyes.

Someone or something had come in and slaughtered the Thalmor soldiers and wizards guarding the entrance. Ondolemar gritted his teeth. He quickly thought of all possible beings that could've done this. The Blades were a possibility, along with Stormcloaks. However, either group would have sustained at least one casualty; he saw only Thalmor corpses. A terrifying thought entered his head.

 _Was it a dragon?_ Dragons still flew around Skyrim, though were considered more a nuisance than anything else. There were giant swathes of burnt ground here and there, not something any type of fire spell could cause, along with grooves in the ground where the dragon could have possibly landed. But if there was a dragon, was it still around?

"Sir? What do you want me to do?" Right, the carriage driver.

"Go take shelter at Solitude. And be careful. There may be a dragon about."

~~~~Line Break~~~~

Ondolemar cautiously walked into the Thalmor Embassy, Bound Sword in one hand, and an Ebonyflesh at the ready in the other hand. So far there had been no signs of a dragon anywhere, which meant that it had slaughtered the Thalmor here and then left, or had been scared off. In all likelihood, the fact that the building was still standing meant that any survivors were holed up inside. Suddenly, the High Elf pitched forwards with a startled cry. He caught himself before the ground met his face, dispelling both magicks in the process. Ondolemar quickly flipped around to see what he had tripped over.

 _Just...just a body._ He shook his head to clear it. _I'm too tense. If there were still a dragon around, it would have attacked by now._ The Altmer paused. Something about the body was off. Ondolemar shuffled closer to investigate, and paled. The body of the Thalmor wizard had a jagged cut across the throat.

The Thalmor Embassy had an attacker aside from the dragon that was probably still here.

Ondolemar felt panic try and seize him again. No, he couldn't panic. There was a chance that someone was still alive here, and as a Thalmor Justicar, it was his duty to make sure of any survivors of an attack to gather information of the attacker for retaliation. But how had the attacker survived the dragon?

 _Perhaps they waited until the dragon cleared out. The body with the slit throat may have been someone checking if the dragon had left or not, with the attacker deeming it necessary to kill them._ Satisfied with this theory, Ondolemar picked himself up off the ground. He summoned the Bound Sword again, and readied the Ebonyflesh spell. _Time to see if they're still around._

~~~~Line Break~~~~

There was no one in the main building. No one alive except the servants, who had been knocked out. Ondolemar frowned. That meant the attacker was focused specifically on the Thalmor if they were willing to spare the workers. He continued on to the next part of the Embassy. Exiting through the back of the main building, he stepped into the courtyard. No bodies at all, which wasn't surprising. A dragon attacking would call all battle ready Thalmor to the area it was attacking; the front in this case. He entered Elenwen's Solar, renewing the Bound Sword as he did. Ondolemar frowned. No sound at all; the building was completely silent. That left the interrogation chamber.

The moment he set foot in the interrogation chamber, every fiber of his being told him to get out. Something dangerous was in here. Mustering his courage, he stepped into the main area, casting Ebonyflesh and renewing Bound Sword.

"By the authority given to me by the Aldmeri Dominion, stand down!"

"Ondolemar?" The High Elf blinked. The intruder appeared to be an Argonian. A very familiar Argonian…

"Mikal? What are you doing he...you're the attacker?!" Ondolemar was astounded. Why would the pale Argonian have any reason to attack the Embassy?

"Justicars stole my daughter from my home!" he growled. "And I'm getting her back."

"Why did they take her?"

"They think she has information about the Dragonborn. Where to find him, how to stop him, that sort of thing." Ondolemar couldn't help but be amazed at his comrades' idiocy.

"She couldn't possibly know any of that. The only way she would was if the Dragonborn were her brother or...her...father…" Ondolemar stared at Mikal.

" **Geh,"** he grunted. **"Zu'u Dovahkiin."**

"Wha…?"

"Yes, I am the Dragonborn. And unless you want to go the way of Torygg, you will tell me where my daughter is!" Ondolemar suddenly found himself against the wall with a dagger to his throat. _Daedric,_ he noted.

"I-I don't know! I didn't even know she had been kidnapped!"

"Then why are you here?!" Mikal snarled.

"To deliver my annual report of Markarth, I swear by the Eight!" If Ondolemar was to be honest with himself, he was terrified. Like everyone, he knew that the Dragonborn could Shout like dragons. What was not said was the feeling of cowering from an enraged dragon. Mikal, for his part, slowly calmed down. Ondolemar had never done anything wrong to him, and had even helped out at Elenwen's party at the risk of his position. He stepped away from the High Elf.

"Forgive me, Ondolemar. Dragons are treasure hoarders by nature, and highly appreciative of valuable gems, but there is nothing more precious to us than our children." There was a pregnant pause, with Mikal standing awkwardly to the side while Ondolemar rubbed his neck where the Daedric Dagger had pressed into the skin. "I'd already looked around the entire Embassy and was preparing to leave when you appeared. If she was here, she isn't now. Please, Ondolemar, you must know where they've taken my Runa." Ondolemar hesitated. Yes, Mikal was his friend, but at the same time, telling him where else the Thalmor were could be counted as treason.

A memory rose, unbidden, from the depths of the Altmer's mind. A sister, taken by bandits, and found weeks later, dead and showing signs of the bandits forcing themselves upon her. He had cried and grieved for so long...and what Mikal was feeling could only be worse. Ondolemar, at least, knew what had happened to his sister.

"The only place I can think of is Northwatch Keep. It's a stronghold where the more important prisoners are kept. If the Thalmor are truly after information about you, then taking her there makes sense." The words had left his mouth before he knew he was saying them. The Altmer didn't feel any sort of guilt or regret. In front of him, Mikal's eyes gleamed and his scaly snout lifted into a toothy smile.

"Thank you, Ondolemar. Thank you." The Argonian's face hardened, preparing himself for the fight ahead of him. "Ondolemar...I say this to you as the Dragonborn, enemy of the Thalmor...I will wipe the Thalmor from Skyrim if that is what it takes to protect me and my own." Ondolemar flinched back, fully aware of his current status. "And this...I say this as Mikal, your friend. Renounce your ties to the Thalmor. Come with me and see how beautiful Skyrim truly is. If nothing else, leave the Thalmor or get as far away from them as possible." The High Elf was in awe. He was a part of the group that knowingly abused their authority to do as they pleased, and the Dragonborn, arguably the most powerful being in Nirn, was offering him mercy.

"I...I...w-well if I did up and leave, how would I...I mean, my face, it's…"

"There is a face sculptor in Riften, who can alter your looks. Painless, I assure you."

"...well, where would I live?"

"If you weren't traveling with me? The College of Winterhold would take you in if you're any sort of proficient with magic. By the Hist, I'm the damn Archmage there! If that doesn't work for you, there are several places around Skyrim that I'd be able to get you into."

"My apparel?"

"I have clothing for any that need it, plus armor and robes for those traveling with me." At the stunned look on Ondolemar's face, Mikal laughed. "If nothing else, I am prepared for most any happening. Including helping a friend disappear. At least admit you're bored of Understone Keep."

"I...very well. I will come with you. I'll even help you. The Northwatch Keep guards won't let just anyone in."

"Great! Come, Fahdon, time is of the essence!" Ondolemar blinked. That wasn't his name, and he said so to Mikal. "You need a new name. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Thalmor keep track of their Justicars, yes?" Ondolemar nodded. "Then your name is Fahdon." Fahdon smiled. The two left the Embassy, and even as Mikal released a Shout into the sky, Fahdon couldn't help but feel as though he were free. Once an enemy, now a friend.

* * *

 ** _Los pruzaan? Kos kiin kul, uv wah saan hin vokul sil zeim lot suleyk?_**

 _The few that have the choice of redemption are the ones that deserve it._

* * *

 _(A/N): Just an idea I had. While this is a oneshot, I'll make it a story if people want me to._


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